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Remi AU: Knightless - Behind the Scenes

 

I drew this thing

 

 

http://fc02.deviantart.net/fs70/i/2013/014/3/c/scourge_and_remi_tango_by_kabeone-d5rhde8.png

 

 

 

but in my canon-verse Remi and Scourge don't dance. In the AU, Coremi can dance but she is not with Scourge. So here's why they were dancing. 2 parts so 2 spoilers.

 

Part 1 Disguises - Loose interpretation... I'm still going on about the cartel gear.

 

 

The dress was suitable, though still more revealing than she would have liked. She knocked on Scourge's bedroom door to check in with him before he left. She entered at his call to find him dressed in formalwear.

 

"I thought this event was for underlings only?" Her eyes swept over him with open appreciation. She was pleased that Sith fashion for men was not nearly as ridiculous as what passed for clothing for women.

 

He turned a sober and equally appraising look toward her. He crossed the room and ran a finger down her cheek to her chin, his fingers grazing her lightly until he was halfway down her throat where he encountered not flesh but energy, covert armor technology. He withdrew his hand, satisfied with her choice of dress.

 

"I will escort you there to establish you as mine." He replied in answer to her question. "Then I will leave you to attend another gathering of a similar purpose for those of higher rank."

 

The past three days should have been ordinary. Instead, Coremi felt an increasing sense of unease. Something was wrong. She cleared her mind of the nagging sensation, a distraction that would get her killed where she was going.

 

They arrived at a large ballroom and showed the attendant their invitations. Coremi expected Lord Scourge to leave her then but he led her inside. The moment they entered she was glad for his presence. Had he not been there she might have bolted from the pure malice cast in their direction. A nest of vipers would have been more welcoming.

 

"And I thought finding someone who wanted you dead would be hard." She muttered under her breath. Scourge did not reply but with her hand on his arm she could sense his amusement.

 

"It is not me at whom they direct their hatred." He glanced down at his companion, "It is you. They know you were merely my slave on Balmorra and you have not been sent on any high profile errands to demonstrate your power. I have done poorly at establishing you as valuable and they see you as an easily replaced toy. You will be dead by terrible accident by the end of this night and I will have hundreds applying to replace you. This will not do."

 

She centered herself until she was calm and balanced, careful not to call on the Force in an obvious way. "Make sure you choose someone who wears clothes," she replied. The dress she had rejected was worn by most of the female Sith attending the function. The men wore no shirts at all. She shook her head at the absurd image of being killed by a mob of half-naked Sith. When she turned back to Scourge he had removed his jacket and rolled up his sleeves.

 

"Do you dance?" He asked.

 

"I do all things that can get me close enough to kill someone." She replied. He did not wait for further elaboration, he simply led her to the unused dance floor and began.

 

They had shared a bed, albeit not romantically, and they had sparred in every manner including hand to hand. They were comfortable in each other's arms, their bodies familiar, their thoughts and senses connected through the Force, perfectly in sync. When the dance ended, their gazes locked passionate and intense, no one in the room doubted that she was his and the air changed from malice to calculating appraisal.

 

"I have made you as safe as my reputation can. Do not drop your guard." He said quietly and left her alone at the edge of the dance floor. The vipers still surrounded her, but at least they believed she was one of them.

 

 

 

Part 2 Behind the Scenes

 

 

 

He moved her around the dance floor leading her through intricate turns and dramatic flourishes. He lifted her effortlessly and brought her back down, light as a feather. They never broke contact, chests pressed together in a closed embrace, their faces nearly touching, and for once his expression was not mocking.

 

"We shouldn't be here." She murmured softly enough that only he could hear. He raised a browridge and guided her into a spin.

 

"It is necessary for us to attend these functions if we are to discover whom it is that threatens our plans." He pulled her back against his chest speaking quietly into her ear. The words did not matter. His voice in her ear and his breath against her neck were enough to make her flush. He knew his effect on her and when he turned her to face him his expression had returned to mocking.

 

"That's not what I meant." She whispered undeterred. She slid her hands over his biceps and wrapped her leg around his. They leaned together, her head against his chest. His heartbeat was strong, steady, as inexorable as time. No amount of exertion ever seemed to change it fighting or dancing. "I'm not the one from your vision. Neither of us should be here, I can feel it. This was not meant to be."

 

He turned her around again and pushed her to the floor. She slid down his body, enjoying the sensation of his powerful muscles against her back despite herself. She rose slowly casting a surreptitious glance around the room as he guided her back up. There were several who watched them, some curious, others envious, she suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. If only they knew. "Perhaps," he said. It was all he ever said when she broached the subject. Part of the reason she brought it up now was that he could not walk away.

 

A closed embrace faces inches apart. "Are you giving up?" he asked.

 

"No," she whispered back, twining her leg around his and back again. "But you should find this Jedi with my face and forget about me." She said the last so softly she was not sure he heard. It pained her, the thought of not being near him, the thought of someone else fighting at his side. She wondered why she even bothered to say it, had it been something he could be convinced to do, he would have done it already.

 

"I still believe that you are the one from my vision. Much has happened in the centuries since. Perhaps the circumstances of your training are unimportant." Another lift, "Moreover, the Emperor's plans are already in motion. If you are not the one I seek then it may already be too late to find her." He spun her away.

 

"That's it then?" She asked upon returning, "We're doomed?"

 

His red eyes glowed as he held her gaze. "We must do what we can; we will do what we must." A closed embrace, "Meanwhile, we will search for enemies, subvert the endgame," A cold chuckle rumbled in his chest, "and I will enjoy the pain of a woman in love who can neither stop nor leave though she has no hope of having her feelings returned. If my three hundred years of torment shall end in failure, I will die amused."

 

She slid her hand over his shoulder until she cupped the back of his neck. She pulled his face down to hers, fiercely determined not to let him enjoy her pain, she allowed him to feel her anger instead. "Damn you, Scourge."

 

The look he returned held no mockery or cruelty. His arm wrapped around her back supporting her as her right thigh slid between his and her left foot slid back. The song ended, their bodies still pressed together and his arms still held her, but it was his eyes that would not release her. She stared up at him, frozen by the intensity of his gaze and his next words.

 

"If you are not the one from my vision, we all are."

 

 

 

Edited by kabeone
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Bright - Your As Time Goes By for Lodestone is just :( Blasted varying life expectancies, just :(

 

Kabe - My brain shut down on this pic in your drawing thread, but I think I've pulled it back together enough to say I looooove the vest and rolled up sleeve look. I love it on men in general, but on Scourge...mph...gah...yeah. And story with the dance and everything...whew, I need to open the window in here, turn on the AC!

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Ack, very late commentary.

 

@ Bright: Another one of those bittersweet moments. I hadn't thought about the implications of Chiss life expectancy being so much shorter than Human. That said, I loved the look at Wynston and Ruth's later years.

 

@ Everstream: This pair almost qualifies for "alternate perspectives". Same character, slight change in events, big difference down the line.

 

@ Kabeone: Loved the picture. Loved the differing view of the same events. I also really liked Scourge realizing that he'd been away from the games and machinations for so long, he'd forgotten how important they were. Not how to play, just that he had to play now that he had someone else in the picture. (ha. pun. :D)

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@kabeone Eeheehee, territory marking in the most stylish way possible. I love it.

 

I had heard a ways back that maximum Chiss lifespan is about 80, and that maximum human lifespan is about 140, but I didn't connect the two until recently, at which point I was all :eek: I could probably have planned that better...

 

I've been thinking about this As Time Goes By scene. Thirty years prior to it Wynston wouldn't have been so patient with Ruth's denial and Ruth wouldn't have put up with Wynston's sneaky appearance modification. But at this point they're entirely secure in the truth of where they stand with each other, so they can let the little comforting things slide. ...which probably comes right back around to bittersweet, doesn't it?

 

I'm looking into different projects at the moment, possibly something a tad more uplifting. Ho-hum, we'll see.

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More “Uncharted Territory” with Kirya and Rixik.

 

I know the prompt this week is “Behind the Scenes”, and while I do have something in the works for that prompt, this particular episode jelled first. I guess it would be “Behind the Behind the Scenes.” I’m not exactly thrilled with it. It’s been through multiple rewrites and editing and, well, here it is. Occurs after the last one, Together.

 

Major spoilers for Smuggler story, all chapters.

 

 

“Consider it a gift, my lord,” Darmas crooned.

 

Lord Dacron seized Kirya’s wrist and pulled her to her feet, “I shall,” he said. He hauled her away, the bells on her costume jingling in protest. She gave Rixik one last frightened glance over her shoulder as the automatic door slipped open to admit the pair. It closed with awful finality.

 

Rixik stared at the closed door in horror. His mistake, but Kirya paid for it. Again. First Rogun, now this. His mistake. So many mistakes.

 

Darmas turned to his other kneeling captive, “As much as I’d love to send you to Kessel to spend the rest of your life tortured with thoughts of what Lord Dakron is doing to your wife, I’ve read your file.” He pulled a blaster and pressed the barrel against Rixik’s forehead, “You’re a slippery little eel, and I’m not letting you wriggle out of this trap. Goodbye, Shen.” He pulled the trigger.

 

There was a blinding flash and Rixik sat bolt upright in his bed in the cabin suite he’d booked with Risha on the starliner, gasping for breath. The shot rang in his ears. He pressed one shaking hand to his forehead, where the phantom sensation of the blaster muzzle was as clear as if it had been real. He swung out of the bed and snapped on the light. Checked his reflection in the mirror. No circle printed between his eyes, just the bioplast scar getting a bit ratty around the edges.

 

He staggered into the shared space between their separate bedrooms and made straight for the semi-complimentary liquor cabinet. Reaching in, his hand closed on a random bottle. He withdrew it, yanked off the cap and upended the tiny thing into his mouth. Blech, Hutt tequila, complete with miniature pickled slug now oozing its way down his throat into his upset stomach. He threw the bottle across the room, the scanner in his eye reporting its trajectory and speed in computer-perfect glowing blue lines. Like blaster bolts.

 

The empty bottle bounced off the far wall. It didn’t even explode in a satisfying destructive display. Useless plastic thing just fell to the floor and dribbled a little booze on the carpet. Mocking him. Rixik grabbed another random bottle and slumped into one of the comfortable leatheris chairs that came with the stateroom. For the first time in years he wanted to light up a ryl hookah. Wouldn’t, but the soft, felty oblivion in its smoke sure sounded nice right about now.

 

He unscrewed the cap and drained another shot. The aroma raced up into his nasal cavity and an oily aftertaste clung to the back of his tongue. Lovely. That’s going to get along so well with the huttlet he’d already swallowed. Was it too much to ask that one of the karking bottles be something he liked? Three more days to Coruscant. He stared longingly at the liquor cabinet. There was no way he was getting more sleep tonight outside of a drunken stupor. And he really didn’t want to spend the remainder of the trip hung over.

 

He set the empty on the matching table beside him and held his head in his hands. This game was so much easier when he didn’t have to worry about other people. Hell of a lot more fun, too. How did Nok Drayen managed a criminal empire and a family too? He was having nightmares already, and he hadn’t even done anything yet.

 

He scooted forward to the edge of the chair and caught a glimpse of himself, ghostlike in the cabin’s dark mirrored wall. It was supposed to make the room feel larger. Right now he felt more closed in than ever.

 

Done whining? The reflection demanded.

 

Rixik blinked. Oh, great, he was still dreaming.

 

Not quite. You just knocked back two shots in as many minutes. Check the label on that last bottle.

 

Rixik picked up the empty. The ornate label carried the legend ‘Tarisian Absinthe’. Karking wonderful.

 

That’s right. You should have cut a deal for that stuff.

 

Thank you for reminding me of something else I screwed up.

 

Yeah, yeah, whatever. So, anyway, you done feeling sorry for yourself? Can we move on?

 

Move on where?

 

Taking down Darmas Pollaran and his pet senator, stupa

 

It won’t work. He’ll hurt Kirya.

 

Like that won’t happen anyway. What the hell do you think he’s got planned for you once you’ve served your purpose? A big party like the Organas threw on Alderaan? Maybe hours of thank-you speeches from the senate? A medal?

 

Rixik stared at the bleary reflection. He didn’t have an answer.

 

You’ve been in this corner before, bukee. You know he’s using you. You know he’ll throw you away when he’s done with you. You’ve got nothing to lose. Just like old times.

 

But--

 

How do you know that dream wasn’t worry over what happens if you let Darmas play the whole thing out without interference?

 

Damn. He didn’t actually remember anything before that last bit. Losing Kirya. Getting killed. A chill ran up his spine and Rixik shivered. Just the air circulators. Just a draft.

 

Right. The worst thing you can do right now is nothing. You know it. That’s why you’re here. That’s why you convinced Kirya to let you come.

 

What if it backfires? What if it doesn’t work?

 

Does it matter? Deal with it. You used to be good at this, remember? Used to enjoy it. You’ve been around nice people for too long. Lost your edge. This is the game. Truth is irrelevant; it’s all about appearances. Act confident. Doesn’t matter how nervous you are so long as no one knows.

 

That was before others depended on him.

 

So, it’s only fun when it doesn’t matter? Is that it?

 

Rixik grimaced. That was it, or a large part of it. Darmas spooked him years ago back on Coruscant. His finely-honed survival instinct said to leave the gambler alone.

 

You did. Darmas dealt you in without asking if you wanted to play. Interesting he contacted Kirya not long after Skavak’s demise, don’t you think?

 

It did put Skavak’s exchange with the Imperials in a different light. Made him wonder if Darmas facilitated that, too.

 

Probably.

 

Wonderful.

 

Come on, don’t waste a spendy cabin-suite ticket to Coruscant. At least throw a spanner into Darmas’ plans. You know you want to. Make him sweat. You’ve wanted to since you met him.

 

Rixik tried not to smile. That was true. And so long as he was hallucinating a conversation with himself, he ought to admit that he wouldn’t be so worried if Pollaran’s connection had turned out to be with one of the syndicates. Syndicates broke the laws. Governments made up new ones to make their crimes legal. Big difference.

 

Imperial laws don’t matter in Republic space. Only Republic laws. You’ve got that covered. Pollaran’s the one with legal trouble, or he will be soon. Once you get that information in the right hands it won’t matter whose bed he’s sleeping in. So relax for the rest of the trip.

 

Three more days. Then the real fun starts.

 

And you’re going to enjoy it. Don’t kid yourself.

 

Rixik rocked to his feet and wobbled back to his room. He’d had a conversation with Corso once. About having a conscience. Somehow, he didn’t think the hard-drinking, spice-smoking Twi’lek in the mirror was the kind of internal voice Corso was talking about. Maybe it was the closest he could manage.

 

Edited by Striges
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Eehee, alt-Rixik pep talk. I like it.

 

 

Now, prompts!

Week of 1/18/2013

A little change of pace: The Story So Far! We're nearing 2600 posts and 750 stories; let's step back for a moment to consider our universes. Write a summary for your characters, storyline, or entire universe as you would introduce them to a beginner.

Night of the Living Prompt: Keep on using any prompt you like! Check out the list at http://www.swtor.com/community/showpost.php?p=5223753&postcount=1675.

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Index up to date and comments!

 

@Eversteam the little bits of your story I'm able to read (because I'm trying not to spoiler BH) makes me want to rush through the class story so I can read more.

 

@bright_ephemera The lifespan question is always a tough one to deal with *looks sternly at the immortal/mortal pairing she cornered herself with* Bring on the sads!

 

@Striges That voice may have gotten him in trouble before but it also kept him alive, I absolutely love Rixik's inner voice!

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Knightless: The Story So Far as told by Watcher X

JK Spoilers / Agent spoilers kind of

 

 

 

Are some things inevitable? Does fate or Gods or the Force will us to an end? Are our choices merely window dressings on the façade of free will?

 

Coremi told me of her past, how she grew up in the Balmorran resistance, how she'd never seen a Jedi in her life except to watch them run away. She told me about the Sith, his vision of her, her role in defeating the Emperor, and what he planned to do if they failed.

 

Intelligence has records of the Emperor's powers of persuasion. Will she be able to throw off his mind control as the Sith foresaw? It was the reason she came to me. I could hardly believe what she was willing to become to face the Emperor, all on the word of a Sith.

 

Chemical mind control is still in its early phases and who knows what effect if any the Force will have on its usage. But giving control of herself to another, a Sith no less. She must either be certain that we will all be destroyed or she has extraordinary faith in him. Or both, is it love perhaps? I did not factor that into my research.

 

What decision or incident skewed time so that she was not the Jedi of his vision? Why did they meet again anyway, why now? I don't put much faith in visions, nevertheless the experiments were interesting, and we will see if any of the research bears fruit.

 

I suppose if it doesn't, it won't matter.

 

 

 

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Remi AU Knightless: Health

 

 

 

A dozen Sith approached that night, all prying for information for their masters, but none of them fit the profile. Either they were too highly placed to be anything other than their Master's pawns or too greedy and obvious to be trusted with real information. She left the gathering having failed to locate Vowrawn's true agent. The night had been dull for all its danger and the feeling of wrongness had increased with every hour. It was almost a relief when she was attacked.

 

The Sith was fast and skilled, Coremi found herself scrambling to avoid his attacks. He favored a vibroblade but never needed to parry her lightsaber. Instead he slipped and dodged reversing his attacks and striking again with dizzying speed. Finally he disarmed her, a move that would have severed her arm had it not been protected by the invisible energy shield she wore over her dress. Instead it numbed her hand forcing her to drop her saber.

 

He sneered and picked her up by the throat clenching his fist. Desperately she reached for her blaster, a tiny thing strapped to a hidden holster just under her skirt. She fired a shot forcing him to break his hold. She dropped to the ground and fired again not giving him a chance to renew his attacks. She blasted him backward with a wave of Force and fired several times while he was in the air. Vibroblades were not built to deflect blaster bolts, her shots pierced his defenses and he was dead before he hit the ground.

 

She walked unsteadily toward his corpse searching him for identification. She fumbled through his pockets finding only an unmarked data chip. She stood carefully looking around for signs of more assassins then doubled over suddenly, overcome with a wave of nausea. She looked at her arm, a single thin scratch marred her wrist. Poison. She frowned at her own carelessness and stood shakily, wondering how long she had.

 

She walked carefully focusing on maintaining the appearance of normalcy. She reached the speeder pad and found a pair of Sith standing next to a disabled droid. They drew their lightsabers, she clenched her jaw wondering how many idiots she would have to dispatch before she could get home.

 

There was no finesse in her style now, she was efficient and ruthless. She picked up one with a twist of enraged thought and knocked him into the second. They fell in a tangle of limbs that she impaled with a leap and a strike before they had a chance to sort themselves. She grabbed a pair of identity chips off their bodies and dragged herself to the disabled droid. She fought another wave of nausea as she opened the panel to inspect the damage.

 

Another Sith approached in the distance, she swore under her breath attempting to hurry and be careful simultaneously. After a number of false starts and a shower of sparks she maneuvered a hairpin dataspike into place and the speeder droid whirred to life calling up an automated speeder.

 

Once in the cab and moving off the platform she risked glancing back at the newcomer. She shuddered with recognition. If he had intended to kill her, she would not have been able to stop him in her state. She spent the rest of the ride home and the walk to her suite concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other. Her sense of balance shifted and lurched and her vision glowed strangely at the edges creating the illusion of movement where there was none.

 

She reached the door to her suite and found Scourge waiting in the common room. "Did you discover Vowrawn's agent?" He asked without looking up after she shut the door.

 

"No," she replied making her way into the room, "I fought off three assassins and I think I've been poisoned."

 

He looked up from his datapad and sneered at her condition. "Pathetic, you will accomplish nothing." He muttered and returned to his reading. "Clean yourself up."

 

She swallowed, moderately surprised, but the memory of their dance and his mockery had not left her the entire night. This was just another test to him. She stumbled to the room they used as a medical bay and fumbled through her supply of anti-toxins. Her hands felt large and heavy, too clumsy to load the medicine into the injector. She knelt with her supplies scattered around her on the floor trying to focus her mind enough to meditate. She stared at the scratch on her wrist. It had started to ooze a yellowish substance. She wondered if Lachris had felt the same way, disgusted to be defeated by something so common.

 

A boot appeared next to her. "Let me help you," a familiar voice said.

 

"Can't help me, Doc." She whispered to the man's foot. "You're dead."

 

He knelt and picked up the vial loading it into the injector. "A little redheaded Jedi told me there was no death, only the Force." To all appearances he was exactly the way she remembered him. Except his eyes, the light had gone out of them, just as they had when the Jedi cut him down. "A real Jedi, not you." He stood and looked behind him, "Should I give this to her?"

 

"A Jedi preserves life above all else," A woman's voice answered, "But in her case I'll make an exception." Coremi looked behind her old friend at the Jedi she had killed. They both had the same dead stare.

 

Doc shrugged, "Sorry, Cori. You're on your own."

 

She managed to laugh even as she began to convulse, "Story of my life." She said as she toppled over. The pair disappeared as her vision darkened. She lay on her side staring at her hands with detached fascination. The scratch on her wrist was gone.

 

 

 

 

Edited by kabeone
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I read this AU and wonder when/if Scourge will break, cause I love Scourge and all versions of Remi :)

 

And then Coremi died... and the Emperor won. The End.

 

hehehe... J/K :D

 

Anyway, more words!

Remi AU: Knightless

NotLP: Health

 

Rust

 

 

Scourge returned to the suite. He had been attacked by a lone assassin, a fool who wielded only a vibroblade. He had sensed an ambush long before the man was within range and defeated him easily. Unfortunately, the mysterious Sith employed a number of assassin's tricks to escape and disappeared before he could be questioned.

 

Scourge checked the tracking device he had planted on his apprentice. Coremi had already returned, but as he entered the common area the suite was silent. He had expected her to wait long enough to report her findings. He stopped near her room to find the door open and her bed empty. He reached out through the Force, she was near, but only as a feeble spark of life. He searched and found her lying on her side in the storage room where they kept their medical supplies. Several vials of kolto, stims, and anti-toxins surrounded her but she did not appear to have used any.

 

He lifted her to the examination table and scanned her vitals. Aside from the barely perceptible rise and fall of her chest she could have been dead. Her lips were blue, her skin paler than normal, and her body cold. The scanner began returning nonsensical numbers and he was about to reset the device when she woke with a gasp sitting up suddenly on the table. He tried to hold her down but she pushed him away with considerably more strength than he expected. Her eyes shifted about the room as if looking for someone or something.

 

"What happened?" he asked softly trying not to startle her.

 

She finally focused on him; several emotions flitted across her face finally settling on anger, "As if you care." She snapped.

 

His brow furrowed with confusion. "Tell me." He urged rubbing her arms attempting to both calm and warm her. When she only glared at him he tried to reason, "Were you attacked? An attack on you is only an attempt to weaken me, you must tell me."

 

"I told you, three assassins." She snarled and tried to push him away. Alarmed he gripped her shoulders and shook her.

 

"When did you tell me this?"

 

"A few minutes ago," she still fought him, "I told you I was pois-" she paused and looked at her wrist. "You weren't in the sitting room when I came in?" She asked carefully.

 

"No."

 

"Did I go to a party tonight?"

 

"Yes."

 

"Did we dance?"

 

He paused for a long moment. "No."

 

She sagged forward suddenly, her body wracked with tremors. He grabbed a warming blanket off a shelf and wrapped it around her, finally holding her when she did not stop shivering, "I don't know what happened." She whimpered against his chest when she was able to speak again. She squirmed a little, reaching into a hidden pocket and produced three datachips. "I think I killed three people tonight."

 

He took the chips from her. "I will look into this, would you prefer to wait here or in your room?"

 

"I," she hesitated, "I would rather go with you. I don't want to be alone right now."

 

He nodded agreement. She shook with fatigue and cold as she tried to move and was forced to lean heavily against the table just to stand upright. He frowned and scooped her into his arms and carried her to his office. He placed her on a couch where she could see the dataterminal screens and took a seat at his desk to analyze the datachips. He pulled up a feed of the night’s gathering to see if anyone had drugged her or otherwise manipulated her mind.

 

They watched the party preparation in silence, delivery people and entertainment came and went. Nothing about the party seemed out of the ordinary. Finally guests began filing in.

 

"Well," she chuckled from the couch sounding more like her old self. "At least I didn't dance at the party by myself." They watched the recording show them entering the party with him leaving her at the edge of the dance floor.

 

"What do you believe you remember of your conversations?" He asked absently scanning the faces of each of the attendees.

 

She frowned and got up to take a closer look dragging herself to the display. He frowned at her exertion but did not stop her. She sat on the edge of his desk and peered into the recording.

 

"That guy, Velothas, wanted to know how I became your apprentice, I told him I killed a Darth with a steak knife, he thought I was joking." She watched as another pair approached, "Those two shirtless guys propositioned me, pretty forthright, I was impressed enough to say no politely. And that one, Mikael, asked whose side you were taking on Corellia. There’s more infighting among Sith there than with the Republic." She watched several other Sith stop for a brief whispered word or comment. "Most of the rest asked what you were like in bed."

 

He glanced at her to see if she was joking, but for once her face was serious and she was still scanning the crowd for anything else she could remember. "What did you tell them?" He asked suspiciously.

 

She looked back at him with a deadpan expression, "I told them you were warm."

 

He snorted and turned back to the feed.

 

"Well I think I did anyway." She muttered to herself then grinned, "Maybe I made up some elaborate story. Maybe I was insulting. Maybe there's a gaggle of Sith ladies who think you have a remarkably agile tongue."

 

"That's enough." He sighed and switched to a feed from the Holonews. Three bodies had been discovered, one under a bridge and another two by a speeder pad.

 

Her smile disappeared. She elbowed him aside so that she could access his terminal and hacked her way into the city security cameras. She saw herself approach slowly, her lightsaber was already drawn. The pair nudged each other and drew their own sabers, apparently believing they needed to defend themselves. She killed them within seconds.

 

"That's not what I remember," she whispered in horror.

 

He ignored her reaction in favor of the military report on the third Sith. "The third, actually the one you killed first, was the true assassin." He read the description and cursed, it was strikingly similar to the one who attacked him, "I believe the assassin had targeted me earlier in the evening, when he failed he came after you." He held up the unmarked chip. "This contains a holofrequency. Perhaps we can use it to trace his master."

 

Coremi was no longer paying attention to him. Instead she stared at the bodies of the two men she had killed for no reason. "They were innocent." She said.

 

"They were Sith." He replied. "There is no innocence among us." She looked away, a tear slipped down her cheek and something within him snapped. He stood, cupping her face and forced her to look at him. "They were pitiful and weak. There were two of them and you killed them in a heartbeat while you were barely conscious." Even as he spoke he felt both pride and anger. "How many times will you weep for someone who is unworthy of you? Forget them, they mean nothing. Someone tried to kill you this night, we must determine who and why."

 

She stared at his outburst, shocked and speechless, finally she said, "You mean you."

 

"Me?" He asked, surprised at the change of subject.

 

"Someone tried to kill you, and hurt you through me. That's why we need to find out, right?" She touched his hand lightly holding it against her face.

 

His brow furrowed and he stroked her cheek with his thumb, for a moment he thought he could feel the softness of her skin, and then it was gone. He dropped his hand releasing her and stepped away. "Ultimately, I am nothing. You are the one who must fulfill my vision. That is why the most important thing right now is to find out who sent this assassin."

 

She started to say something but changed her mind. She shook her head, "That's not the most important thing right now." She sighed covering her eyes with both hands. "I was hallucinating, my nervous system shut down." She shuddered again and he sensed her terror. "The serum is ready."

 

 

 

 

 

Edited by kabeone
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"What did you tell them?" He asked suspiciously.

 

She looked back at him with a deadpan expression, "I told them you were warm."

Hahahhahahahaha!!!

for a moment he thought he could feel the softness of her skin
eek!! :)

"The serum is ready."

My goodness, I nearly forgot about that. How could I forget about that! double eek! :eek::eek:

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Ahh, serum-pants-crazy. That is a specific kind of crazy.

 

Um, also, have some prompts!

 

Prompt day! :)

 

Week of 1/25/2013

Legacy - suggested by the lovely Vesaniae. Legacy is an important part of the game, and a running theme throughout several of the stories. Is your character a part of a particular legacy, be it of family or ideology? What does your character want to leave behind when they're gone?

Hidden Talents - ported from the SFC prime universe thread. All of our characters are good fighters, but people are good at more than one thing, and in alternate universes our characters may have practiced different skills. What else are they good at - and how do their friends and family react to learning about this hidden skill?

 

Night of the Living Prompt: Keep on using any prompt you like! Check out the list at http://www.swtor.com/community/showpost.php?p=5060021&postcount=2.

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Prompt day, "Bright's kind of lazy" edition!

 

Week of 2/1/2013

LF1M – Dating site profiles are full of the good, the bad, and the ugly. If your character got lonely and tired of his/her designated love interest, what profile would you write for them to submit to the HoloNet's matchmaking services?

 

Night of the Living Prompt: Keep on using any prompt you like! Check out the list at http://www.swtor.com/community/showpost.php?p=5060021&postcount=2.

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*Walks in, noticing the slight layer of dust covering everything. Seems to have been a while since anyone has been in here.*

 

Um, hi after much deliberation and repeatedly talking myself out of it I have decided to actually post an offering. I have actually been playing along and writing from the prompts each week since June, but since it was simply for my own entertainment and consumption and coupled with the fact I'm a habitual lurker it never occurred to me to share, until recently.

 

Months later these shorts are really starting to pile up, so I picked one that was relatively short, (I have a problem creating anything short) tried to clean it up so it would be suitable for viewing, a thousand apologies for any grammatical or spelling errors.

 

This is firmly planted in my AU, it features everyone's favorite Cathar and it follows the NotLP: I Love This Bar. I don't think anything in here could be considered a spoiler.

 

So now before I chicken out again, I'm hitting submit.

 

*Walks quickly out of the room, frowning as more dust is disturbed on the trek out.*

 

 

Slowly he headed to the entrance of the cantina, meandering past and around the tightly packed patrons. Feeling warm and slightly disorientated from drinking too much whisky too quickly, he needed some air. Pausing to let a waitress weave past carrying a drink laden tray, Aric reached into his front pocket and retrieved a cigarra. Smiling he brought the dark brown cigarra to his nose and inhaled, his senses filled with spice and flowers floating on the thick musty backs of dried leaves, grinning he extended a razor sharp claw and sliced the end off.

 

Resuming his walk to the entrance he snagged a three finger whisky glass off a passing serving droid’s tray. Absently he dropped a credit stick on the tray and headed out of the establishment. Inhaling the moon’s night air he crinkled his nose. It was not exactly refreshing but for Nar Shaddaa it was passable. Taking a sip off the rocks glass he stared at cityscape below him.

 

So far it had been a pretty enjoyable day. He had procured some really nice, a low throaty chuckle escaped his lips as he took another drink, and highly illegal modifications for his cannon and a case of twenty-five year aged Corellian whisky for a steal. Jonas had treated them to an evening; dinner, then the casinos and on to a rather interesting cantina crawl. The best part, he sighed taking another drink, he was alone, Jonas was completely entertaining the Lieutenant and Dorne had actually loosened up and was inside chatting up … someone. He could not remember who the someone was, Aric laughed, well he had looked nice enough.

 

The next thing he knew a large something shoved him from behind and tumbled on top of him as he failed, miserably, to maintain his footing. He heard his rocks glass shatter on the ground nearby, he had managed to retain his grip on his cigarra though. Landing on his backside he huffed, the wind knocked out of him. Growling he looked up at the tackler and paused, his angry retort forgotten.

 

The something was a human, a woman. A giggling woman dressed in semi formal clothing, black slacks and a blood red shirt, the split sleeves allowed glimpses of her pale skin to peek through. The giggling mound on top of him shifted more properly into his lap sliding her other leg over him. She looked up at him and another round of giggles escaped her lips. Her face was obscured by a mane of rich auburn hair, “Sorry,” the giggles resumed. Before he could stop it his hand reached up and ran his clawed fingertips through her hair, it was so soft. He gently pushed it back off her face and down her back.

 

He was greeted with the greenest brightest eyes he had ever seen. He stared looking at her, dropping his forgotten cigarra. He brought his other hand up to brush the remainder of her hair away from her face. She leaned in looking, she smiled. “Your eyes they are so beautiful, all green and gold, like crystals.”

 

His eyes were locked onto her face, her smooth porcelain skin slightly flushed, full grinning lips painted the same blood red hue as her shirt. As he stared he kept thinking how kissable those lips looked. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered. Her eyes widened, she giggled again as she leaned into him, those lips aggressively kissing his. Groaning he closed his eyes and returned her kiss gently biting her. She tasted of rich wine, thick with berries laced soft tannins.

 

He was rewarded with more giggles and she leaned into him harder, wrapping her arms around his body, one slid around his back, a hand caressed the side of his neck. Growling he slid his right arm down her side resting it against the small of her back, pushing her against him. This night could not get any better, he loved redheads.

 

An annoyed grunt filtered through his ears. She stopped kissing him and looked over her shoulder. Grinning she looked at the large man that was standing behind them. “Can I keep him?” she beamed. “He’s so soft.” Her hand ran down Aric's neck and slipped into his shirt, causing him to gasp in surprise. “See,” she smiled.

 

“I’m sure he is,” the large human grumbled.

 

Aric stared at him, large was being unfair, the man was a walking mountain of muscle and he looked less than pleased.

 

She shifted on Aric's lap, causing him to growl. She giggled and returned her attention to him. Faster than he could track she recaptured his mouth, biting his lower lip before deeply kissing him, her tongue running over his fangs. His body trembled under her. It felt like everywhere her body was touching his was sparking, a penetrating warmth rolled off her body, her fingers left warm trails across his fur as she caressed him.

 

A loud throat was cleared, cracking open an eye Aric saw the moving Mountain had stepped closer. “I want to stay with him,” she slurred her words slightly. “He likes me,” she grinned back over her shoulder at the Mountain. The man leveled a glare at him, eyes narrowed. Very subtly the Mountain tapped his chest and then motioned to Aric. Glancing down Aric realized his dog tags had fallen out, quickly he palmed them, slipping the chain under his shirt.

 

“Everyone likes you m’ Lord,” the Mountain stared down at him, his brown eyes burning.

 

Wait... what? Aric stared at her, his left hand slipping down to her waist. It came to rest on something cool and metallic to the touch. Swallowing he glanced at his hand, it was resting on a saber hilt. Aric looked back to the Mountain who was watching him with a crooked smirk on his face.

 

“No,” she pouted, “not everyone, after a night of celebrating I want some fun.”

 

“Who wouldn’t m’ Lord?” the Mountain smiled.

 

Her pout deepened, “That emotionally suppressed captain who lives on my bridge, that’s who.” “I give up on him, he’s a lost cause.”

 

The Mountain chuckled, a low deep rumble, “It’s his loss, I can be a lot of fun m’ Lord.”

 

“Yeah?” she perked up smiling. “I like fun,” she giggled. “Yeah,” he smiled down at her. “But I want him,” she pouted, “he’s soft and nice.”

 

She turned her attention back to Aric, smiling she ran her fingers over his head, “you’re so soft.” Giggling she kissed him again, groaning he leaned into her, his whisky addled brain was just not connecting the pieces and she smelled so nice. His hand moved around the hilt to grab her waist pulling her closer. He felt her try to force him to the ground, to try to turn them over and then he was cold. Looking to his right he saw her lying on her side giggling uncontrollably.

 

The large Mountain seized his opportunity and scooped her up in his arms, “M’ Lord I do think it’s time to go.”

 

She smiled eyes closed. “Say it again Pierce.”

 

“My Lord,” he rumbled.

 

She giggled. “I love that and soon it will be Darth.”

 

“Yes,” the Mountain rumbled, “very soon.”

 

Sighing she giggled again, “The Lord and the Lieutenant off to have fun.”

 

He stared up at her securely held in the Mountain’s arms, his eyes locked on the saber hilt on her belt. He slowly took them in realizing for the first time they both had Imperial accents. He finally noticed the Mountain’s attire; black suit, black shirt, his black boots were military issue, strapped to his hip was a rather large blaster black with the Imperial crest on the grip. The man’s brown eyes stared down at Aric, warning him. Slowly the realization dawned on Aric that her protective mountain was in full control of his senses, the lieutenant was her guard. Motionless he sat there and watched them move away.

 

She looked back at him, peaking over the Mountain’s shoulder, waving and blowing him a kiss goodbye. She noticed the broken glass on the ground. “Oh... oh, Pierce I broke his drink.” “I need to fix it.”

 

“Already on it m’ Lord.” He shifted the inebriated Sith into one arm, easily holding her while he dug a credit stick out of his pocket. Glaring at him Pierce finally bent over offering Aric the stick. Cautiously Aric reached out accepting it, mumbling a “thank you.”

 

“I want another bottle,” she giggled. The Mountain looked down at her smiling, “I thought you wanted fun m’ Lord.” He wrapped his other arm around her and spun them a couple easy rotations as he walked away towards the taxi pad. Her happy giggle echoed off the buildings.

 

“Again,” she squealed. The Mountain's low rumbling laugh reached his ears as Aric watched them spin again.

“Oh! I never got his name, take me back I have to ask.”

 

A low laugh echoed off the buildings, “M’ Lord I will be happy to tell you who that was if you remember any of this in the morning.”

 

“You promise…” her voice was growing faint. “Of course m’ Lord.” Her answering giggle faded eaten by the distance.

 

Shaking he looked down at the credit stick in his hand, it was black boldly emblazoned with the Imperial crest. Blinking he looked down at the duracrete sidewalk. Next to him his cigarra sat undamaged. Violently expelling a breath he did not realize he was holding, Aric brought it to his lips. He fumbled in his shirt looking for his lighter. Shaking hands lit the cigarra, slowly he puffed the flame to life before extinguishing the lighter. His body was still vibrating where she had touched him. Glancing at the taxi pad he watched the Mountain put his drunken charge into the vehicle and drive off into the moon’s atmosphere. He stared after the diminishing dot until it disappeared, he had never learned her name.

 

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*Walks in, noticing the slight layer of dust covering everything. Seems to have been a while since anyone has been in here.*

 

Um, hi after much deliberation and repeatedly talking myself out of it I have decided to actually post an offering. I have actually been playing along and writing from the prompts each week since June, but since it was simply for my own entertainment and consumption and coupled with the fact I'm a habitual lurker it never occurred to me to share, until recently.

 

 

...soft and just-too-inebriated-for-his-own-good kitty. This image made me giggle so hard. And your sensory descriptions make drinking and smoking sound good. And Pierce managing the pieces, going even so far as to make sure Jorgan's effects don't end up all over the place? Wonderful. Welcome to the thread!

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Welcome to the thread, Kitar, on your official conversion to non-lurker status. What a nice way to do it, too.

 

I enjoyed Jorgan's thought process for the whole thing. As Bright said, excellent descriptions. I loved how Jorgan kept thinking of Pierce as "The Mountain". How is one of Havoc Squad's officers going to explain that lovely credstick, I wonder?

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A continuation of the as-yet-unnamed scenario I started in a What If? over in the SFC: What if Cipher Nine had participated in an operation (just before Agent Act 2, in the middle of Vierce's Act 2) to frame Elara Dorne for espionage? Now we have the interference of Law and Governance. The entire timeline will have spoilers for Elara Dorne's conversation line and Trooper through the middle of Act 2, and Agent Act 2 spoilers will very soon become significant; additional spoilers will be marked as they come up. 2300 words.

 

 

 

I dreamed that night. Of course I dreamed. Loud, vivid. My father's murder. Other places, other deaths. It went on and on and on, and every single impact, every single time, I wasn't fast or smart enough to stop it.

 

*

 

General Garza called at 0600 sharp and she didn't look happy. "Captain. We need to talk."

 

"Already en route to Coruscant, General." I had set course about ten minutes ago.

 

"Good idea. See me in my office as soon as you arrive."

 

*

 

Jorgan, M1-4X, Vik and myself reported as ordered. I didn't feel quite right having Vik there. He was new here; anything he heard was going to be…it was going to muddle things.

 

Either that or he was going to be the only one of us who had unmixed memories of what she was.

 

Garza waved dismissal to the sergeant who had seen us in. The second the door was shut her voice sounded like a whip crack. "There are politicians banging down my door after the reports from Nar Shaddaa. Tell me everything."

 

*

 

Garza was pacing. She had done it since about thirty seconds into my account of yesterday's events.

 

"And you never suspected?" she said coldly.

 

"I suspected everything. But I never saw an ounce of evidence for it."

 

She shook her head and clasped her hands behind her back. "We won't have time to clear this up with our own inquiry; there are Senators already on my back for a hearing. So you're going to give it to them. They're calling in the SIS themselves; if Balkar and this Raznic stick to their story there's nothing we can do. Tell the Senate what you told me. Do not improvise. There is no way to make this look good; don't try, it'll only make things worse. Is that clear?"

 

"Yes, sir."

 

"Good. Come with me." She started stalking toward the door.

 

"Wait, now?"

 

"Certain parties jumped on this," she said grimly. "They're looking forward to tearing apart a second defection from Havoc Squad." It took my full regular stride to keep up with her. "Frankly I don't know whether we can keep the squad operating."

 

My heart froze up at that. I had worked with Dorne. I had helped her. And if her selling us out destroyed the squad as well as herself…

 

Was it my fault she'd done it? If I'd treated her decently to start with would it have been different? Or would that just have meant she got that much more advantage out of me while she was selling us out? She did respond sweetly to kindness. I thought she did, the few times I offered it. Maybe that didn't mean anything. I didn't know.

 

The hearing room was crowded with faces, most of them unfriendly. We had a good crowd for today's political blood sport. I couldn't blame them. Another active Imp in Havoc Squad was pretty much a worst-case scenario for everyone involved.

 

So the circus started.

 

"This hearing is called to order," said the sour-faced Chagrian in charge, "to inquire into the allegations that Sergeant Elara Dorne was caught in the act of passing secrets to an Imperial officer on Nar Shaddaa." He looked around the room.

 

So did I. Apart from Havoc Squad and the senators I saw Jonas Balkar and the Mirialan Captain Kalor of Personnel Division, the one who had handled monitoring Dorne's activities, or trying to.

 

"Since Havoc Squad submitted no reports of suspicious activity throughout Sergeant Dorne's six months in operation, we'll first turn to the evidence submitted to the Strategic Information Service by Captain Raznic, who undertook an investigation on behalf of Personnel Division. Unfortunately, Captain Raznic was unable to join us today."

 

I found myself looking at Balkar, who frowned back at me. Raznic had a lot to answer for. In the end I should probably thank him, but I wanted to see him face to face first.

 

Senator Sourface continued. "I've asked Jonas Balkar, who received Raznic's full briefing and assisted him in executing operations on Nar Shaddaa, to take the stand today."

 

So Balkar gave the story of how Raznic came to him with these accusations. He brought up the recording of Dorne's report to the Imp Lieutenant Lovissian. It wasn't any easier to watch the second time around. The way she said 'Captain'…she despised me. She had every reason to, and yet for all I did I still hadn't managed to stop her. I shouldn't even care that she hated me, she was a traitor, but it still stung.

 

The Senators whispered a lot to each other as the conversation played. I couldn't blame them. Balkar spoke up as soon as the playback ended. "Raznic indicates that our analysts in the SIS did have the chance to go over this recording with a fine-toothed comb. It's genuine."

 

"So there's no question that this espionage occurred," pronounced Senator Sourface. "The only matters of interest now are the extent of the damage, and the question of why Havoc Squad's commander never detected her activities. Captain Vierce Savins, please come to the front."

 

I took the seat that Balkar had paced in front of throughout his testimony. I gave my account of yesterday. Then I gave my account of how I hadn't seen anything, anything at all, her entire time with the squad. I could feel my face burning the whole time. This was all I had to contribute: ignorance.

 

I tied it up with a summary: "I didn't see anything. She ran it all by the numbers, perfectly. Just about the most dramatic thing she did was avoid me on the ship when she could. I guess that ended up giving her plenty of alone time, but I was watching comm logs. I never caught a report."

 

"That much," said Sourface, "is abundantly clear. Dismissed. Lieutenant Jorgan?"

 

Jorgan's eyes were blazing as he came up to replace me in the witness's seat. He didn't give them a chance to talk. "I have two things to say, Senators. The first is that whatever evidence may have materialized, I can tell you Sergeant Dorne contributed as a loyal and reliable member of the squad. And the second is that I have trouble believing she could so much as blink in a nonstandard way without Captain Savins reporting it. I believe we're all aware of his record against Imperials."

 

"He was obviously making an exception," drawled someone in the front row.

 

"I don't think so, Senator. It was Savins who intercepted the one confirmed Imperial transmission that ever passed through Havoc Squad's ship, the call for help that her brother Aleksei Dorne sent the last time we were stationed on Nar Shaddaa."

 

"Additional correspondence with Imperials on Nar Shaddaa?" Sourface said unpleasantly.

 

Jorgan clenched his jaw. "Yes, sir. Savins discussed it with the sergeant, personally escorted her to the rendezvous, and ended up bringing a whole squad of defectors in."

 

"Defectors of, I would say, highly questionable value. We should detain Aleksei and his squad at the earliest opportunity pending questioning." Sourface turned to me. "Did you run this by Personnel Division or any of your superiors before rendezvousing with these enemy forces?"

 

"No, Senator. There wasn't time." I was just doing what I thought was right. Plus Kirsk had been set on it, and I never knew Kirsk to read someone wrong. And Dorne had been so damn happy. Maybe I thought it was good to do something fair for her. Well, I guess now I knew what thanks I got for that.

 

"In your personal judgment," pressed Sourface.

 

"That's correct," I ground out.

 

"Lieutenant Jorgan, can you offer us any insight into the relationship between Captain Savins and Sergeant Dorne?"

 

"He was her CO." Jorgan crossed his arms and looked stubborn.

 

"And did he ever show an inclination toward favoritism?"

 

Jorgan shot a look at me while he thought about that one. I wondered whether he was just trying to tone down the phrasing on the 'no' there. "He did not, Senator. He was always careful to maintain professionalism; if anything he was harder on her than on the rest of us."

 

"I see. And did you ever observe Sergeant Dorne making efforts to…curry favor…with her commanding officer?"

 

Jorgan shot to his feet. "Absolutely not. She was a professional. So's Savins. I've got nothing else to say."

 

"Calm yourself, Lieutenant Jorgan, you're dismissed. Captain Kalor?"

 

The balding Mirialan came to the front while Jorgan sat by me and glared at the far wall.

 

Sourface was still going. "Kalor, you've supervised Elara Dorne's case file ever since she applied to serve in the Republic Army, is that correct?"

 

"Yes, Senator." Kalor looked troubled but determined. I didn't like the look.

 

"And she was always cooperative in reporting her activities to you, is that correct?"

 

"Until she joined Havoc Squad, yes."

 

"Ah," Sourface said smugly. "Please note, gentlemen, that that is exactly when our investigative reports first indicate her suspect activity. Now, Kalor, can you elaborate?"

 

"Not much to say. The first check-in after she joined she stonewalled me completely. Said that all squad activities were classified top secret and she could no longer report."

 

"I see. Was Captain Savins of any help in this?"

 

"Not, at, all," Kalor said. "He stepped in to vouch for her 'good behavior' and declined to elaborate on anything, or to allow me to question her further."

 

That was Sourface's cue to turn to me again. "And once again you seem to be protecting Sergeant Dorne's activities, Captain, activities that you maintain you knew nothing about."

 

"Classified mission data is classified mission data, sir. I was doing what was right for the squad." I rubbed at my neck a bit, not that that did any good. "I only did what was needed to keep our operations' integrity intact. Now it looks like she was taking full advantage of that to do what she wanted." She had been so damned surprised, so grateful, when I stepped in to tell Kalor the rules were on her side. Big damn hero me, doing what was best for the squad even if it meant taking a little heat for the Imp. Genius.

 

"Thank you, Captain Savins," said the quiet Mirialan woman sitting by Sourface. "You and your men are dismissed."

 

As I walked out the senators chattered among themselves. This could lead exactly nowhere good; at best I would hang instead of the whole of Havoc Squad. Did they really have to bring up every stupid little thing I'd done in my stupid efforts to make up for wanting to knock Dorne's Imperial mouth shut the day she came on board?

 

We rounded a corner into a relatively quiet hallway and I stopped. Jorgan did, too. Vik gave me a curious look; I waved him on. "I'll meet you back at the ship," I told him and Forex. "Right," said Vik, and went on his way.

 

"How did that come out making me look like an Imp sympathizer?" I asked the ceiling.

 

"The questions were rigged," said Jorgan

 

"Sounded straightforward enough to me. I just can't believe I didn't see any of this."

 

"I'm not convinced there was anything there to see."

 

"Were you at the same meeting I was at?"

 

"I heard one piece of hard evidence. Hard to ignore. It still stinks."

 

I sort of wanted to agree with him. "Look, maybe part of me wants to believe she's innocent, but that's not how things are adding up."

 

Jorgan started. "You do?"

 

Just then Balkar came hurrying around the corner. He gave us both a strained smile. "Well, that could've gone better," he said.

 

"The Senate building burning down mid-hearing would've counted as going better," I growled.

 

"You've got Garza on your side, big guy. If anyone can keep your record intact it'll be her."

 

It took me a second to fully process that. "My record's not the point. Either I really did fail, harder than anyone can excuse, or…well, that's the only thing that makes sense."

 

"That or there was a setup," said Jorgan. "Until someone talks to Raznic I won't rule out the possibility."

 

Hearing him say it loosened something up in my chest. It was a possibility that meant she wasn't a fake, toward the end, when I thought things were going well. Meant she wasn't a fake at all. Too bad that idea was too good to be true. "The recording looked ironclad," I said.

 

Balkar nodded, looking sympathetic. "Like I said, SIS analysts went over it. It's the real deal."

 

"Which analysts?" insisted Jorgan. "Have we talked to them?"

 

"I can't exactly show soldiers into their office for questioning. It was handled through a different department, but I know those guys, they're reliable."

 

"Run it by someone reliable that you can talk to, face to face, to confirm."

 

Balkar looked at Jorgan. Then at me, then at Jorgan. "There's going to be pushback, Aric."

 

"You don't have to put your neck on the line for this," I said. "But can you get me a copy of the recording? I know a guy. If he finds something maybe that's enough to bring back to you for official analysis."

 

"To everyone in that room this case is open and shut. You both really think it's worth checking?"

 

"Yes," I said in unison with Jorgan.

 

"Then I'll get it." Balkar took a couple of steps back. "I'd better go, but I'll look into our earlier analysis report and I'll send what I can ASAP. I hope this helps clear your name, Vierce."

 

"My name'll look after itself. This is about Dorne's." I turned away. "All right, Jorgan. Let's go home. We'll see if we have a job in the morning."

 

 

 

 

 

A Chagrian Senator by the name of Zian gives Havoc Squad grief in Act 3 and it is revealed that he's an Imperial spy working on neutralizing Special Forces. The SIS had a file on him by the middle of Act 3. Well…what if their initial reason for investigating him in this timeline has to do with scrutiny sparked by Balkar's inquiries here?

 

I'm not 100% sure where I'm going with this yet, but the waypoints I can see from here look delicious.

 

 

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This is skipping ahead a few weeks for Vierce in the Cipher Nine-framed-Elara-Dorne AU, on a track that briefly runs parallel to Havoc Squad's own activities. Call this one Loyalty and Betrayal. Ardun Kothe's actions won't make much sense until you've played the Agent Act 2. 750 words.

 

 

 

Jonas Balkar strolled into the side room of the Nar Shaddaa cantina and SIS front. Ardun Kothe, the Jedi turned SIS team leader, sat behind the desk, looking thoughtfully at a gleaming gem paperweight. He stood when Balkar came in. "Jonas. It's good to see you."

 

Balkar leaned across the desk to shake his hand. "Do you ever move? There's a lot more interesting cantinas than this, and I've got a room reserved for business in most of 'em."

 

"Well," said Kothe, smiling with a touch of wryness, "all my stuff is here." He sat down again, gesturing for Balkar to sit opposite him. "So. To what do I owe the pleasure of this…very much insisted upon…meeting?"

 

"Well," Balkar said brightly. "A funny thing happened on the way to Captain Savins' court-martial."

 

"Havoc Squad commander, isn't he? I wasn't aware he was getting one."

 

"He's not. General Garza managed to convince certain interested parties that the squad's current mission is too critical to disrupt just now. But like I said, some mighty funny things came up on the way."

 

"Jonas, I don't want to be inhospitable, but my time is limited, and…"

 

"A woman named Elara Dorne was named a traitor to the Republic based on evidence submitted by one Captain Raznic of Personnel Division. Do you know him?"

 

Kothe eyed him curiously. "No, I don't."

 

"Interesting guy. He's been in the service for a solid six years and remarkably few people have met him. But I had a chance to run his biometrics by certain special access databases – biometrics that had to be recovered from backup databanks, since a recent accident wiped out our primary source."

 

"I take it you found something with the recovered data?"

 

"In fact, I did. We've hired Raznic. The SIS, I mean. Slightly different face, nothing makeup can't account for. He's been freshly logged as a defector from Imperial Intelligence, new code name Legate."

 

Kothe's mouth went slack. "I see."

 

"Did you know he pulled off an extremely intricate – and successful, I might add – operation on Nar Shaddaa not three weeks ago?"

 

"He's pulled off a lot of successful operations if what little in the way of files we have on him are accurate. Nevertheless, he's come to our side."

 

"He doesn't seem to have slowed his activity down much before hopping the fence."

 

"Changes in performance draw attention, Jonas, you know that. He's functioning as a double agent now, he can't afford to slack off."

 

"Our double agents shouldn't be hitting us this hard. I wish you'd met the woman whose record he ruined, and whose death he arranged. She was a sweet girl. A fine soldier, too. Legate's Captain Raznic took her apart and very neatly arranged it for maximum impact on her squad's morale. Frankly, I couldn't have done it better myself." Balkar waited for a response and didn't get one. "I want to talk to him. I know some people who are more than a little interested in clearing Elara's name, and that takes information he has."

 

"I can't let you do that. Releasing that information would blow his cover."

 

"This is a cold customer, Ardun, and I don't doubt he's capable of worse. We have no way of knowing whether that 'worse' is going to be in our favor when it happens again."

 

"We've all done questionable things, Jonas. Maybe we could use a chance to set them right."

 

"He cut down a member of Havoc Squad. I'd feel safer if our repentant sinners were a little less good at their questionable things."

 

"I have good reason to trust him now."

 

"Can I at least talk to him? I won't make his activities public, but I still want to clear up that operation."

 

"He's out on assignment," Kothe said firmly.

 

Balkar made a frustrated cutting gesture. "Don't give me that. We're supposed to be on the same side, Ardun."

 

"We are. Trust me when I say I have Legate well in hand."

 

"I hope so. I know some good men who are looking for justice and aren't going to get it thanks to your amnesty program."

 

Ardun Kothe looked into the middle distance and emanated a pompous air of melancholy. "I think we all do."

 

This was going nowhere. Balkar wasn't sure how much harder he could push before he brought something irreversible on himself. Maybe he couldn't push at all.

 

But he could hand what he knew on to someone who could.

 

 

 

 

 

At this point in the timeline Ardun Kothe owns Cipher Nine/Legate. No way is he going to give a credentialed Imperial double agent up.

 

 

Edited by bright_ephemera
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Kitar - Welcome to the thread! Also, Aric and Pierce in the same story?? <swoon>

 

bright - oh lord, this AU :( Vierce caught between "have I been a complete and utter idiot" or "did I allow a good, innocent woman to die" - this one just has HURT stamped all over it in big red letters. Jorgan still keeping to his loyal, stubborn instincts - you really don't have to make me love him more, I already adore him, really. And Ardun Kothe has a hell of a lot to answer for. Agent spoilers:

Once again, I don't have the slightest amount of regret for killing him. Self-righteous bastard.

The way the trooper and agent stories are mixing here works really well - I'm impressed with the plot dovetails.

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...I will NOT name this AU "Who framed Elara Dorne?", I will NOT name this AU "Who framed Elara Dorne?"...so Toontown is the Agent plotline, right?...I mean, um. I'm continuing something parallel to Vierce's activities here; he's busy on Quesh and Hoth. Agent Act 2 spoilers galore. Loosely related to Communication Breakdown. 750 words.

 

 

 

 

"Legate. We need to talk. In person."

 

The off-blond agent known as Legate made a slightly concerned face at his holo. "Kothe, I'm a little busy. My work on Taris is going all right but it's dicey stuff, I can't just walk off."

 

"Which is why I'm coming to you. We should rendezvous by Olaris Spaceport, I'll send you the coordinates. Expect me in about eight hours."

 

"Acknowledged and understood." Legate nodded farewell and stashed his holo again.

 

Then Legate, who was also Cipher Nine, looked down at the man sprawled at his feet. Chance, battered and bloodied, couldn't talk, but he hadn't managed to die just yet.

 

"Sooner or later the day will come when our good friend Kothe can't say the word, either," Nine told him. "But today I'll have to settle for you. Goodbye, Chance."

 

*

 

The bunker was a shambles on the outside but neatly maintained within: yet another of the safehouses the dotted the Tarisian landscape under the auspices of a dozen competing interests. A somewhat ragged-looking Legate found Ardun Kothe standing in the entry chamber. "Kothe, I need to report that an Imperial patrol intercepted Chance. I came…too late to do anything."

 

"Damn," Kothe said softly. "If this mission weren't so urgent I wouldn't have sent him at all, he wasn't ready for field work in a hot zone."

 

"He faced it well. He had the keyword, I almost got there in time, but…in the end it wasn't enough. I'm sorry." Legate set his fists on his hips and frowned at the ground. "I wish I had more coworkers like him."

 

"The mission has to continue," Kothe said solemnly. "That's the best we can do for him."

 

"The mission will continue, I'll see to that. But first, you wanted something?"

 

Kothe nodded. "Yes, I have some questions about something that's come to my attention."

 

"Ask away."

 

"Nar Shaddaa. Mere days before you met with me. You had a slightly different face. You matched a personnel file for a Captain Raznic who appears to have been planted some time ago. You set up one of Havoc Squad's soldiers for a fall, rubbed it in her CO's face, and disappeared again."

 

Legate's mien was sorrowful and deadly serious. "Yes. I did. My last 'straight' job." He raised his eyes to Kothe's. "She was innocent. The woman I framed. Elara Dorne. I've ruined innocents before, I think we all have. But this one was the only person I ever had a chance to meet who felt the way I did about defecting. And I chose not to meet with her, because that wasn't the job." He looked away. "I did my duty," he spat. "But if I had any doubts about coming to your side before that, that's the mission that laid them to rest."

 

"I see." Kothe paused a moment. "There are people calling for full investigation into the affair."

 

Legate didn't meet his gaze. "Are you handing me over for justice?"

 

"No. I need you, Legate. The work we have ahead is something I don't think I can do without you, and in the end that's more important than holding you to account for what you've done in the past."

 

"I appreciate it." Legate managed to draw himself to his full height and meet Kothe levelly, eye to eye. "I am sorry. About Elara, about quite a lot beyond her. There's nothing I can do about those crimes but leave them behind to work with you."

 

"I know. As we speak you're working to contribute to something much greater. And as we go, I can hope that someday you'll mean those words."

 

For just a moment, fear flashed in Legate's hazel eyes. "What do you mean, sir?"

 

The little background warmth in Kothe's expression vanished. "You're a smooth liar, Legate. But I've got a pretty good idea what you would be if this chance weren't forced on you. I hope you prove me wrong. Like I said when you so glibly signed on, I hope that once you've seen the good we do here, you will come around. For real this time." He took a step back. "But if I'd known how good you were at arranging accidents I would never have partnered Chance with you."

 

"I didn't arrange Chance's death."

 

Kothe studied Legate's face closely for a very long moment. "Perhaps," he said. "If you didn't, it was only for lack of opportunity. Keyword: onomatophobia. Skip the empty protestations and get back to work."

 

 

 

 

 

Cipher Nine = jerk. This broader scenario might have interesting dynamics if it had an Agent who has noble intentions, but sometimes I just want to hunt down a bad guy.

 

 

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*whispers in horrifed awe* It's just really hitting me how much this guy is going to hurt when Vierce gets hold of him. little bitty pieces of screaming mincemeat

 

Probably depends on whether he gets to Kothe before Vierce gets to him. That's heading for a frightening three-way race: who gets to destroy who first. This Nine has to be pretty angry about the whole major plot of act 2, and seems a lot more willing to take it out on anyone at hand so long as it doesn't blow his cover.

 

Agent spoiler:

Oh yeah, my agent killed Kothe too. And refused the SIS offer at the end. The Sith might have given her the programming, but it was Jedi who used it. They can both go to hell.

 

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